


Belief

by ThatSinga



Series: Rowvember 2020 [10]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Brotherhood, Demon, Despair, Gen, Swearing, Torture, Violence, game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSinga/pseuds/ThatSinga
Summary: A Brotherhood patrol had a run-in with a Saint.
Series: Rowvember 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995631
Kudos: 9





	Belief

**Author's Note:**

> A bit darker this time around as I try to get into Velvet's more evil, demonic side.

The haunting sound of that monster's heels was drawing closer, slowly approaching him and getting louder with every click, until they stopped right next to him. He didn't have the energy to even look up at his doom's visage, let alone attempt to crawl away, the holes in his knees and elbow made sure of that. Then again, there was no need to, since she was kind enough to roll him over onto his back with a heavy kick to his ribs, followed by pressing her sharp heel into his crotch, and holding down his remaining good arm with her other foot. Forced to look up at her, he saw her shiny black boots rise above him, reflecting the flickering light of the fires from the burning trucks around them. She towered over him menacingly as her glowing amber eyes stared right into his own. It was probably just blood blurring his vision, but he could have sworn her skin had taken on a reddish hue as she had been standing there, or maybe it was just the nearby flames making it appear that way.

Neither of them said anything, he just managed to cough up some more blood when he tried to, secretely hoping some would get on her latex boots as a final 'fuck you' before she'd end his life.

"Do you believe?" she suddenly asked him ominously, her voice muffled through the creepy mask she was wearing. He didn't understand what she meant by that, "Believe what?" he wanted to say, but only managed to choke on his own blood and saliva, making her repeat her previous question, "I asked if you believe!" She stressed the last word by applying more pressure to his genitals with her heel, making him gasp and spit up more mucus.

"In what?" He finally managed out, causing him to feel a strong pain in his chest from where she had previously broken a few of his ribs.

She just tilted her head, "I dunno, anything really. God, luck, second chances, true love?"

He just stared at her, not knowing how to respond, which clearly agitated his assailant who applied yet more pressure to his balls, almost piercing them at this point.  
"Let's tryyyy...," she pondered for a moment as she stretched out the word, "Second chances aaaand... luck," she finally finished.

"What?!" he spat out. What did this crazy woman want, couldn't she just kill him already like she had done the rest of his friends? why did she feel the need to torment him in such a way? Was this how she got off?"

"We'll play a little game!" she suggested in a sweet, almost singing voice. She raised up her revolver that she had used to pop his joints earlier, and aimed it at his head.

"Just fucking kill me already, you bitch!" He hissed, but she'd have none of that.

"That's no fun," she scolded him and wagged her finger, "Tell you what," she started as she opened the six-shooter's drum to ejected the empty shell casings and loaded a single round into it, before closing it shut again, spinning the cylinder, "There's just one bullet in this, right? 1/6 of a chance it'll fire," she continued to explain her idea which started to sound like Russian roulette, "I'll give you this gun, and a choice. You can either hold it up to your head and see if you get out of this without any further pain, or you point it at mine, and try your luck at taking out the leader of the Saints herself, you'd be a hero, and Maero would surely promote you to a lieutenant, if you manage to get out of here, that is," she offered.

He was about to say something and opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted by her continuing telling him the rules, "However, if you point that thing at me, and it clicks empty....you're gonna be in a world of hurt, my friend." she added threateningly. "When it clicks empty when you hold it up to your own head, you go again. If you manage to have it click five times when trying to take the easy way out, I'll just leave you here like this I guess, don't really care, but depending on how nice you play, I might be kind enough to call you an ambulance," the demoness shrugged.

She knelt down on him and put her face close to his, "Do you believe in luck?" she asked him again before taking her boot off his wrist and handing him the revolver.

He didn't know what to make of this, it felt like he was fucked either way. Try to get out of this but risk taking his own life in the process, or pray to God and hope that he can take her out with the first pull of the trigger, but risk being killed slowly and painfully at this beast's hands if it doesn't work out. To be honest, he had been quite done with his life at this point, all of his friends were dead, the Brotherhood was falling apart, and even if he managed to kill her, and if he managed to somehow crawl to safety, he might still end up paralyzed from his wounds. He might not have believed in luck, but he believed in God, and that he would soon be relieved of this torment.

He cautiously moved the gun towards his head, the demoness' glowing eyes following his every move, a wicked grin forming under her mask. He held the gun up to his temple for a couple of seconds, his shaking hand tightly gripping the weapon as his finger hesitantly hovered over its trigger. He had silently made his peace and overcame his fear of death as he squeezed his eyes shut.

*Click*

Nothing, a dud. It clicked empty. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. On one hand he wasn't dead and was closer to getting out of here alive, on the other, he still had to go through the effort of taking his own life at least one more time.

Velvet was excited, snickering underneath her mask at the man's predicament, feeding off his despair.

He steadied his breathing as he went for another shot, tightly closing his eyes again, as if that would make it any easier as he pulled the trigger for a second time.

*Click*

"Two down, keep it at, boy," Vivi cheered him on as if he was a child performing well at a baseball game.

Meanwhile, the Brotherhood member was less than excited, he had potentially three more attempts to endure. He just wanted this to be over, he couldn't bear the sight of that terrifying face hovering above his any longer, that unholy creature pressing its knee into his aching chest, its hot breath making his skin crawl, even through the veil it wore. Without hesitating he squeezed the trigger once more.

*Click*

The gun was taunting him. That Saint was taunting him. She'd put a bullet in the gun, had she not? Or was this just some sick mindgame for her own pleasure. This situation felt all too familiar to him. He had owned a cat as a child, and whenever it had caught a rodent, the feline would not outright kill it, but play with the prey until it died from its injuries, sometimes even letting it escape, making it think it had a chance, only to immediately catch it again and continue torturing it. This woman was fucked, dared calling herself a Saint, she was the devil himself.

*Click*

He couldn't believe it, this was a trick, there's no way he was still breathing. Had she just put an empty shell in the gun? The monster's eyes squinted at him, her scary mask covering a huge smile.

"The final round, feeling lucky?" She teased him, enjoyment clearly audible in her eery voice.

At this point he had a 50/50 chance should he decide to take a shot at her now, but with his luck up until that point, could he really risk it? It would just click again and then she'd take her sweet time torturing him to death. He didn't dare, he was too frightened of her, he just wanted it to be over. He was breathing heavily and tried to calm himself down. One more time would he have to overcome his survival instinct and just pull the trigger like he had done four times already. As his breathing slowed down, he peacefully closed his eyes, ready for the afterlife.

*Click*

There was no way, this wasn't real, was it? He couldn't tell if he was either the luckiest, or unluckiest man alive, but at least he was alive. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, but he just stared blankly at the red face above him.

"You're pretty good." She complimented him, "Usually people just take a shot at me or blow their brains out in the first two rounds, but you've made it all the way through, congratulations!" She clapped her gloved hands mockingly.

He didn't really listen to a word she was saying, a million thoughts were running through his head right now, until he came to a realization: The next pull of the trigger would be a guaranteed shot. Using whatever strength he had left, the man slowly lifted his arm up and pointed the gun at the Saints leader's head.

"Say hi to the Devil for me, whore!" he spat as he squeezed the trigger.

*Click*

His eyes widened in shock and a gasp escaped his lips. No, this couldn't be! This wasn't real, it was a dream, a nightmare, in fact! The woman was laughing loudly now, finding humor in what he supposed had been a sick joke all along, one he failed to see the funny side of.

"You really shouldn't have done that, you know..." she warned him in a faked sad tone once she had calmed down. He knew he had fucked up, if he had just played by her rules, she might have just left him there as she had promised, but now he had pissed all over that. Velvet grabbed his wrist and squeezed it tightly until he dropped the gun, she didn't let go, however, and kept applying pressure until it finally snapped. The bones audibly shattering as the man let out a loud, agonizing cry when she broke his wrist, rendering him completely defenseless.

"You know what's funny?" She asked him the whimpering man below her as she picked up the weapon. Without waiting for a response to her rhetorical question, she opened up the revolver's cylinder once more, revealing that there had in fact been a bullet residing in its chamber. His brain should have been mush after the second shot.

"But how?!" he yelled out, his voice weak and strained from pain and exhaustion. How had it not fired, he shot six times, at least one should have discharged the round, it made no sense. Some sort of black magic must have been at work there, there was no other explanation for it.

"The truth is," she closed the gun's drum again, "the game was rigged from the start," she finished as she aimed the gun at his balls and pulled the trigger, obliterating his nuts, and earning herself yet another excruciating scream. She proceeded pulling down her mask, revealing a set of large, beastlike teeth, before she sunk them deep into the flesh of his neck as she started her work.


End file.
